Magnus set down the bannock slowly, his hand moving toward the knife at his belt. "Who's there?"
Silence.
He turned in a slow circle, scanning the shadows. The kitchen was large, full of dark corners and hiding places. Storage rooms branched off to either side. Someone could be anywhere.
"I ken someone's here," Magnus said, his voice carrying through the empty space. "Show yerself."
Nothing.
But that feeling persisted. Grew stronger. The sense of eyes on him, of presence nearby.
Magnus's fingers closed around his knife hilt. "Last chance. Show yerself or?—"
Movement behind him. So quiet he almost didn't hear it.
Magnus spun, grabbed?—
And slammed the intruder against the floor.
His hand closed around a slender throat, his knee pinning their legs, his other hand catching both wrists and pressing them above their head in one smooth motion. The kind of hold that would keep an enemy immobilized, helpless.
Then he saw blonde hair spread across the stone. Wide hazel-green eyes staring up at him. A familiar face frozen in shock.
Ada.
"God—Ada—" Magnus loosened his grip on her throat immediately but didn't release her wrists. His heart hammered against his ribs. "What are ye daein' here?"
She gasped for air, her chest heaving. "I—I couldnae sleep—I came tae get some milk?—"
"Ye nearly got yerself killed!" Magnus's voice came out harsher than he'd intended. "I could have—if I hadnae seen yer face… why didnae ye answer me?"
"I didnae mean tae scare ye! I was just—ye were here, and I thought maybe we could—" Ada stopped. Her gaze dropped from his face to where his body pinned hers to the floor. "I thought if I announced meself ye would disappear tae try tae avoid me. Magnus."
He became acutely aware of their position. Of the way his hips pressed against hers, the way his chest brushed hers with each breath. Of her wrists trapped in his hand above her head, delicate and pale against the dark stone.
He should move. Should release her and step back and apologize for nearly throttling his own wife.
He didn't move.
"Ye cannae sneak up on me like that," Magnus said, his voice rough. "I'm a warrior, Ada. Me instincts—when someone approaches from behind—I react. Dae ye understand?"
"Aye." Her voice was breathless. "I'm sorry. I didnae mean tae—I'm just a light walker. Always have been. "
"Light walker." Magnus's grip on her wrists loosened slightly. "Is that what ye call it?"
"Me faither used tae say I moved like a ghost. Could never hear me comin'." Ada's eyes searched his face. "Are ye—are ye angry with me?"
"Nay. I'm—" Magnus stopped. What was he? Terrified at how close he'd come to hurting her? Frustrated at himself for being so on edge? Aware, suddenly and overwhelmingly, of how good she felt beneath him?
All of those things. None of those things.
"I'm just glad I stopped in time," he said finally.
Ada was quiet for a moment. Then, impossibly, she smiled. "Ye looked terrified when ye realized it was me."
"I was terrified. I thought I'd—" Magnus shook his head. "It's nae funny."
"It's a little funny. The great Magnus Haraldson, brought low by his tiny wife sneakin' intae the kitchens fer milk."
